Lessons on cooking...or rather failing.

On a sunny day just like this, it would have been like committing a felony to stay indoors. I guess that was exactly what I was doing right now. Robbing a bank.
"Damn this dinner party..." I murmered as I tried to chop the onions as finely as I could while trying to not hack my fingers off. They weren't that impressive, really, in huge blocks that I was scared someone would choke on. I hated every part of this. Following a recipe was harder than it looked, especially since I had no sense of what a measurement was. My estimations were, of something to be worried about, with me putting too much of something in something and too little of something in something. These somethings were now all in the bin because I ruined them with my incompetence in the kitchen. Sometimes I have to wonder why I even try. It would have been easier to go to Mr.Ling's Chinese Restaurant down the road and passed off the chilly tofu as a family recipe. But the truth was inevitable, I wasn't Chinese.

Three hours later, my legs no longer wanted to support me and my clothes were covered in so many food items that they would have made a meal for my guest. But the food that I did manage to make, I think would be refused by a starving man in the middle of the desert with no food to eat for two weeks. Three hours wasted and what did I have to show for it? A messy kitchen and food in the bin.